


Moonlight And Magnolias

by Ecrivaisseur



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1920s, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Paris, Angst, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-24
Updated: 2016-01-27
Packaged: 2018-05-15 23:29:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5804464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ecrivaisseur/pseuds/Ecrivaisseur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Romantic OutlawQueen. AU, set in 1920's Paris, France. Regina Mills is an aspiring actress who wants nothing more than to separate herself from her aristocratic roots and pursue her theatre career. Robin Locksley is budding artist who lives amongst the thousands of other impoverished artists in Paris and supplements his income as a painter. When the two collide, it's practically love at first sight. But romances are never easy, and falling in love will soon be the least of their problems. . .</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Stranger

Chapter One

"Stranger"

It was the beaming slivers of sunlight creeping into the room between the red curtains that eventually woke Regina up from her sleep; her dark, chocolate hair messy and disheveled and her face dreary with tiredness as she finally sat up in her bed after a few moments. The alluring pull of sleep still tugged at her, but she knew she had to resist the desirable temptation. Were she to fall back asleep now, it would only be a matter of time before Johanna or her mother would be come in, bickering at her to wake up and start the day.

But there was one particular reason why she wanted to fall back to sleep: to resume a dream she had been having of a man. A handsome man, at that, but she didn’t even know his name. Only his face. . . she recognized him as a stranger she’d bumped into early in the morning of the previous day outside a building she'd been entering.

The ordeal had lasted only moments, but clearly the stranger had left an impression on her if she was dreaming about him.

Slipping on a satin robe over her loose nightgown, Regina dragged her feet out of her bedroom and down the long hallway to the main living-rooms of her family’s apartment. Packed boxes, crates and unwrapped furniture still crowded the parquet floors of the vast rooms, clear evidence that Regina and her mother had just recently moved-into the large, ten-room flat atop one of the many prestigious apartment buildings in Paris’s 19th Quarter.

Sunlight bounced off of the bare white-walls of the dining room as Regina entered the high-ceilinged room, catching a glimpse of the Eiffel Tower off in the distance from one of the many tall windows. Her mother looked up at her from the opposite end of the dining-room table, a newspaper in one hand and a cigarette in the other.

“Good morning, my love.” Cora Mills’s soft, coffee brown hair was already coiffed into a simple bun atop her head, and a light red suit was clasped around her slim figure. A rope of pearls swung from her neck.

“Morning, mother,” Regina pressed a kiss into her mother’s cheek as she slid into the empty seat beside the elder woman. Her nose instantly caught the sweet scent of a delicious aroma in the air coming from the kitchen, one that tempted her for more.

“Johanna’s making pain au chocolat and croissants,” Cora spoke softly, as she glanced over the paper and refilled her glass of tea.

Regina, too, poured herself a cup. “It smells delicious.”

“It always is.”

Regina glanced around the room. They had lived there only a few days so far, but already she was starting to like it. It was something new, and was oddly refreshing; it was considerably different than the large, grand family estate her family at come from. Lying twelve miles outside of Paris, her family’s home had been a beautiful collection of gardens, green-houses, pools and tennis-courts, all united together by the large chateau at the center of the property. Her family had lived there for generations as French nobles; but, after Regina’s father’s death, they could no longer afford the estate, and Cora had been forced to sell the whole property, thus necessitating their move to the apartment in the city.

Cora set her newspaper aside and looked over at her daughter. “The Rothschilds have invited us to dinner tonight. Six o'clock at their townhouse in the 9th Quarter.”

Regina let out an inaudible groan at her mother’s words. The Rothschilds were perhaps some of her mother’s most boring friends who had been around in Paris for almost as long as their family had. Conversations with them usually focused on two things: hunting to horses, both equally dry and the only things they seemed capable of talking about.

If that wasn’t bad enough, their son, Arthur, was one of the most narcissistic people Regina had ever met in her life, and they were _always_ seated together.

“Alright,” Regina knew she’d be forced to go, so there was no point arguing, especially with her stubborn mother. “My acting classes end at five, so I’ll come back here and change before we go.”

 _Ah, yes_. The brightness of Regina’s day: acting classes down by the Seine River. Ever since she was a young girl, she'd yearned to be an actress on stage at the Théâtre de la Ville, and she had been thrilled when she'd gotten accepted into acting school a few months ago. It was the one thing she looked forward to in her day the most.

“Hm,” the annoyance practically dripped from Cora’s face, “So you’re still on that, aren’t you? I’m not sure we’ll be able to afford such hobbies much longer with our current state, my dear. We're running out of money, you know.”

“It costs next-to-nothing, mother,” Regina said, “besides, I’ll sell my jewelry if I have to.”

“You’d make far more if you’d just find a nice, rich husband. Acting is en empty pursuit, my child. Why not find a wealthy aristocrat to marry? I did always hope you’d marry a prince, but at this stage, I’d even settle for a nouveau-riche magnate.”

At that moment, the door to the pantry flapped open and Johanna, one of the Mills’s two servants they’d been able to continue to employ, strolled into the room pushing a breakfast cart with two plates on it. She set one down in front of Regina and the other in front of Cora. 

“Breakfast is served, milady,” she nodded towards Regina's mother.

“Thank you, Johanna,” Cora thanked as she cut a knife into the crispy croissant in front of her, “That’ll be all.”

Flashing a smile in Regina’s direction before she left, Johanna quickly curtsied and scuttled back through the door, exiting the room as the door closed behind her.

“Mother, I am not going to give up on my acting. We’ve been over this before. You know what it means to me. . . but I will come to dinner tonight, if I must.”

“Very well.”

* * *

Regina took in the fresh, however frosty, January air as she made her way along the crowded, tree-lined streets of Paris, maneuvering her way around people, dogs, venders and anything else that came across her path on the sidewalk. She’d just come from lunch a few blocks away at one of her favorite cafes, not far from her flat, and was now excitedly headed towards her acting class. She silently rehearsed her memorized lines in her mind as she walked. 

Despite the cold, the sun was still out, which helped to make the temperature not as bad as it usually was at that time of year. Usually there was snow on the ground by then, however there hadn’t been a single snowflake so far that month, which disappointed Regina. She loved the snow.

As she walked, she couldn’t help but wonder if she’d see the stranger she’d bumped into yesterday. Most times, she wouldn’t have given another thought to someone she saw for a few seconds. . . but she’d dreamed about this man. His handsome face, his soft voice, his kind eyes. . . he could be anywhere in Paris by now, she realized.

Regina clutched the soft edges of her coat together tightly and proceeded onward through the crowd, making turn after turn around the winding streets of the city. Within ten minutes, she had arrived at her destination: the old, narrow, multi-story townhouse that loomed over the Seine River, the fourth floor of which served as her acting school.

She passed through the run-down entrance to the building, her eyes alert and wide. This had been the spot where she’d bumped into him; he’d been going out, and she’d been coming in, though both had had time to stop and greet the other with a warm, friendly smile before continuing onward with their day.

Unfortunately for Regina, the only face that greeted her inside was the eighty-years-old doorman, Mr. Moe French, who she smiled at as she passed by,so she made her way straight to the elevator and up to her class.

* * *

_5:30_

Regina glanced down at her wristwatch as she hurried out of her acting class and straight into the elevator, her purse dangling from her arms as she attempted to wrangle on her coat. Class had run late - her instructor had just put Regina and her fellow students through a very passionate mock-Shakespeare session - and now she had only fifteen minutes to walk the several blocks back to the apartment. Her mother wanted to leave precisely at fife-fifty, and Regina still would have to change out of her day-clothes and into an evening gown.

Luckily, the Rothschild’s townhouse was only a five-minute drive, but still she was cutting it close.

She fumbled with her purse as the elevator jilted to a halt and opened onto the first floor, and she exited it quickly, not giving much thought to her surroundings. She was looking for her gloves. . . it was night out, and the temperature had taken a dive since the sun had fallen and the moon had taken its place. . . but she couldn’t seem to find them. _Had she left them_ -

The next thing she knew, Regina felt herself crash into another person, sending her stumbling back, from which she only barely caught herself from colliding into the wall. She looked down to find she’d dropped her purse and, not only that, but a large, bright blue stain of paint had found itself smeared onto her coat, and was now dripping onto her shoes, as well.

“Oh my goodness, miss, I am _so_ sorry.” Regina looked up to see a man approaching her, and she suddenly took in a sharp breath. Fate must've been on her side for, the man who was standing directly in front of her, was none-other than the stranger she had collided with the previous day. The man in her dreams, looking very much like he had then, only now Regina noticed he, himself, was also covered in various colors of paint. _A painter?_ "Are you alright? D-did I hurt you? Oh your coat - "

It took Regina a moment to respond. "Uh, uh. . . I-I'm fine. No, yes, I'm fine. Really!" She found herself being totally lost in his eyes as he stared at her. "Really, I'm fine." 

"Are you sure? I almost sent you into a wall, miss." 

"Oh, uh," Regina stumbled, "Please, call me Regina. And yes, I'm fine. It appears the only casualty is my unfortunate coat." She offered him a warm smile of reassurance as took a quick glance down at her jacket. 

"Really, _Regina_ , I am sorry about that. I wasn't paying attention and my paint bucket-"

She placed her hand on his shoulder, something she wouldn't have usually done with a stranger. But she dreamed about him. . . which, in a weird sort of way, gave him a sense of familiarity to her. "It's perfectly fine. I've been meaning to get a new coat, anyways." 

"Really?" 

"Yes." Actually, she'd just bought the jacket a few days ago, but she wasn't going to tell him that. 

"Alright," he said, taking a step back towards the elevator, "Well, I'm Robin. _Robin Locksley_. I work up on the fifth floor, and if I need to pay for your new coat, you can leave the bill with Moe at the desk and I'll get it." 

Regina shook her head. "No, of course not. I'm not going-" 

"Please, I feel terrible about it," he tried to plead, but Regina made it obvious she wasn't going to charge him anything. Finally he relented, "At least - at least let me buy you a cup of coffee. If not a new coat, at least let me buy you that?" 

Regina grinned. "A-alright. When and where?" 

"There's a small cafe across from Notre Dame. . . two days from now at lunchtime?" 

Regina furiously scribbled down the date and time on a notepad she had dug out of her purse. "Perfect, I'll meet you there," she said, as they both smiled and parted ways. She lingered for a moment or two, thinking about what had just happened, before proceeding onwards into the night.

She didn't even care that she was running even more late for dinner than before. 


	2. Date

Chapter Two 

Date 

The small heels of Regina's shoes clicked happily as her feet stepped across the concrete; the wool, auburn shawl drooped over her shoulders rippled in the air behind her as the wind suddenly sent a chilly breeze rolling through. Had her silky hair not been under the protection of a hat, it surely would've followed the shawl, and Regina thanked herself for remembering to put it on as pulled the edges of the fabric cloth closer together. It was something she found herself doing often when she was out on the frosty, tree-shaded streets of Paris. 

A budding excitement was rising up inside of her; she was on her way to the cafe across from Notre Dame Cathedral, where Robin had promised to buy her a cup of coffee. She had eagerly awaited the date for the three days since she'd stumbled into him for the second time at acting school. Dinner with the Rothschilds and her mother had been dreadful and dull, not unusual, but particularly boring that evening, and thinking about their date was the only thing that had been able to get her through it.

In the little time she'd spent with Robin, those brief few minutes, she'd found him to be considerably charming - and she could hardly wait to see him again. 

The tension inside of her spiked as she finally came upon the cafe: it was a small, stone building crouched into the corner between two very similar looking buildings. Much like most of Paris, these were all probably over one hundred years old, and, also like most of Europe, they wore their age well. It was an elegant, albeit rather simple and small, building of two visible stories - a third one hidden in the arched roof - and, with the exception of a few worn spots in the stonework, it was one that bore its age remarkably well. 

Passing through the entrance door, Regina found herself in a cozy, warm cafe with maroon walls, white-tableclothed tables, and a roaring fireplace against one of the walls. There were two guests seated at a table near the window, and a fourth, fifth, and sixth each seated alone at other tables. Other than them, there weren't very many people inside the establishment. 

"Bonjour. A table for two," Regina spoke to an attendant near the door in her light, airy accent. It was a woman, which she found surprising. Most women didn't work as waiters back then in 1920's Paris. 

"Very well. Follow me, madame." The server led her to clean, tidy table near the fireplace. Regina could feel the heat of the flames kiss her skin, sending warm chills throughout her body. It was a welcome relief to the coldness of the outside temperature. 

"Merci," Regina smiled at the woman as she slipped off her shawl and handed it to the attendee, taking a seat in one of the two chairs. 

"You're welcome. My name is Ruby, and I'll be serving your table. I'll be back in a moment." With that she briskly departed off somewhere behind into the back of the restaurant, leaving Regina by herself at the table. 

It was there that she waited for a few moments, until after a minute or two she glanced up at the large clock that loomed over the fireplace. It was  _6:28_ and the seat across from her had yet to have been occupied. Nevertheless she still smiled, patiently, as she folded her hands across the linen tablecloth and focused her sight on some minute detail in the cornice of the ceiling, content to wait for her "date's" arrival. 

She looked up at the clock again. Still he hadn't arrived.

_6:30_

_6:31_

_6:35_

"Could I bring you anything to drink?" 

"No, Ruby, merci." 

_6:37_

_6:39_

_6:40_

Regina's eyes darted over to the door. Still, the man of the hour had yet to have appeared.  _It's only ten minutes,_ she told herself as she looked over at the empty chair that stared back at her.  _Perhaps he's -_

Suddenly, her eyes caught sight of him through one of the windows. He was gone in a flash, though he reappeared a second later entering the cafe through the entrance. He paused just a moment to adjust his appearance in the mirror of one of the pictures, before turning back to Ruby. They conversed - more guests had entered the restaurant by that point, and Regina could only make out Ruby's laugh - before Robin spotted Regina at her table and she waved him over. 

They both flashed wide grins of shining white teeth to each other. 

"I apologize for my lateness," Robin spoke as he slid into the chair opposite her, taking his coat and handing it to Ruby. It was then that Regina noticed a bouquet of brightly colored flowers in his grasp at his side. "But I wanted to stop and get you these - for spilling paint on your coat." He offered the flowers to her, and she received them warmly. 

"Oh, you shouldn't have, monsieur," she took a whiff as a combination of sweet scents filled into her nose, reminding her of the flowers that she used to pick in the expansive gardens of her beloved childhood home. She lowered them into her lap as their eyes met again. "Could I get a glass of water for this?" she asked Ruby. 

The woman bowed and departed swiftly. 

"I wasn't sure what kind of flower you liked, so I just bought a combination," Robin offered as he unwrapped the wool scarf tied around his neck and placed it in the shoulder bag he set onto the floor. "Do you like them?"

"I do. They're beautiful! Magnolias are my favorite, but not to worry, these are all so lovely." 

She took another smell of the aroma and smiled at him again.

* * *

The conversation had been slow, at first - they were, after all, almost perfect strangers who knew very little about the other - but as the moments passed between them, and they both had a nice, hot cup of coffee in front of them, they gradually started to warm up to each other until, in a short while, they were talking as if they were old friends. Regina was like that with most people she met: she could be friendly, at first, but still maintained a level of distance between herself and the person until after she had been around them for a few moments. Depending on the person, she could warm up to someone quite quickly. 

Robin Locksley was one such example. 

They talked for about an hour straight, and in that time Regina learned many things about him: he was an artist - a dedicated one at that, apparently - who lived in a flat in Montmartre, in Paris's 18th quarter, with all the other artists in the city; he sold his art in various places, but, since that didn't earn him much money, he painted buildings and rooms for a living; he and two of his friends are painting the floor above Regina's acting school, which is why he was in the building; he's lived in Paris almost all of his life and, soon, hopes to one-day live out in the country, somewhere near the sea. 

Regina also discovered he was a beautiful storyteller, and she sat, captivated, as he talked on and on about the beauty of the city. 

She, too, relayed to him some about her life. "How long have you been living in the city, then?" he asked when she told him about her and her mother's recent move. 

"A little over a week. I used to visit here several times as a little girl, though for the most part I spent my childhood out in the country. Paris is just as I remember it as a little girl," she motioned to their surroundings as she spoke, "It's almost as if nothing's changed." 

"Oui, oui," Robin nodded as he smiled and took a sip of coffee, "Paris has changed very little in almost two-hundred years. It's a marvel-" 

_"Regina!?"_

The deep, thick voice cooed suddenly from behind Regina and Robin, as they turned to see a handsome, dark-haired man standing not far away from them, near the entrance to the cafe, a grin displayed broadly from plush lips that were nestled in between black, rough scruff. He wore a light gray day suit, and quickly started to approached their table. 

She let out a very audible groan, as Regina instantly recognized him as Arthur Rothschild, the narcissistic bratty son of her mother's friends who she'd spent all of Sunday night with for dinner, listening to him talk about his various riding awards he'd won while abroad in Europe. "Arthur. . ." she said aloud, her voice empty of any sort of enthusiasm, and her tone hinting on annoyance. She was actually astonished to see him there; small, ancient cafes and diners weren't usually the type of establishments she would've expected him to frequent. As son of one of Paris's wealthiest families, she would've far more likely assumed that upper-echelon, exclusive male clubs were more his forte. 

"Regina? Is that you? What are you doing here," his irritable smile only grew even more as he approached her, and she made sure to note that not once had he even looked at Robin, who was sitting in silence, let alone acknowledge his presence. "It's been so long since we last saw each other - _are you following me?_ " 

His tone was playful, and he laughed loudly as he drew up beside her. Regina wasn't amused, however.

"No. I'm having coffee with a friend of mine," her hand swept in Robin's direction, though Arthur's gaze didn't falter from Regina's face, "Robin Locksley. He's an artist in -" 

"Server" Arthur interrupted suddenly, looking over at Ruby and causing both Regina and Robin to become agitated, "I'll be joining this lady for lunch, so please bring us another chair. Oh, and a martini as well." 

In that moment, Regina and Robin's eyes met, and they instantly realized that neither was in the mood for a chat with Arthur. 

"I like to come to little, decrepit cafes when I'm in the part of the city. It's nice to see how the other hand lives, sometimes, don't you think?" A chair was brought and he started to sit down, "Anyways, I'm accepting an award in the park this afternoon for a riding competition I competed in last weekend, which I'm sure you'll want to hear all about-"

"Actually, Arthur," Regina said, standing up from her seat as Robin did so also, "I have to be going. My mother needs me for an. . . uh, uh, a doctor's appointment. But it's been lovely seeing you again." 

Without another word, Regina headed for the exit, with Robin hot on her heels, while Arthur was content to remain behind and drink the martini that had been brought for him. Ruby handed both of them their coats as they made their way past the entrance doors.

"I really enjoyed this," Robin smiled at her once they were outside the restaurant on the sidewalk. They tried to ignore Arthur's stare from inside the restaurant. 

"I did, too. We should do this sometime again." 

"Yes, we should. Soon."  


End file.
